


Innovative

by dessert_first



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Established Relationship, Fun, Kink, M/M, Porn, rounds of kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack thinks there's nothing hotter than knowing what's under those well pressed, expensive suits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innovative

**Author's Note:**

> Written for , from a fabulous and irresistible prompt from . Thanks to for her stellar support on this one. Even if I didn't use her awesome idea because I just wanted to finish the smut and get out of Dodge. Oh, and thanks to for her two, uh, units of currency regarding Ianto's ass. Or, as he would have it, arse.

As soon as Ianto walks into Jack's office, he knows something's up. He'd like to credit his keenly developed powers of observation, but really, Jack is just being patently, lewdly obvious.

He's lounging back in his chair, gaze focused on Ianto, his face flushed with pleasure and good cheer. And he is… licking. Sucking. _Fellating_ , really, with great gusto, a mid-sized purple dildo. Ianto takes a half-step forward before he can control himself. Jack pulls the dildo out of his mouth with a lusty slurp and smiles at Ianto.

Ianto swallows.

"Good morning," Jack says, placid as if it were any ordinary day. "Sleep well?"

He blinks for a moment, regaining his composure—it doesn't do to give Jack an inch he doesn't earn for himself. "Yes, thank you," he finally says. "I trust you had a pleasant night's rest?"

"Oh, you know me," Jack shrugs. "Some of this, some of that. Picked up a little present for you." He indicates the dildo, slickly gleaming, translucent, with a swell in the middle and a flared base. "Come here."

Ianto does, gaze fixed on the dildo, half trepidation, half anticipation. Whatever Jack does, Ianto will like. He always does.

Sometimes it scares him how much.

When he reaches Jack's side of the desk, Jack swivels around to face him, smiling. He slips one hand under Ianto's jacket, cupping it around Ianto's wool-clad hip, and leans in to press his face to Ianto's stomach, closing his eyes. His hand runs up and down Ianto's hip, soothingly, and after a moment he looks up into Ianto's eyes. "I've been waiting for you."

Ianto smiles and leans down to kiss Jack good morning. The kiss goes on longer than Ianto had expected, Jack's hand tight on his hip, until Ianto finds himself sitting in Jack's lap, arms around Jack's neck, kissing his soft, mobile mouth like he can't stop.

He finally pulls away, gasping. "The others."

"They won't be in for another hour." Jack smiles at him, a challenging glint in his eye. "Take off your trousers."

Ianto's hand is halfway to his belt before he processes the request. Jack nods approvingly, and Ianto follows through, standing up unsteadily. He bends to remove his shoes and socks, undoes his belt and the button of his fly, slides off trousers and underwear in one mostly-smooth move, as efficient as he can make it. Wearing nothing but his shirt, jacket and tie, he places his things neatly aside so they won't wrinkle, always a risk with Jack's games.

Jack makes a happy little hum and leans in, parting the sides of Iantos' shirt to mouth at his hard cock, pulling it into his warm mouth for just a moment before he pulls away. "Turn around."

Closing his eyes, Ianto does as he's told. Jack's hand immediately goes to Ianto's arse, and Jack's mouth follows, as it so often does. Warm, wet kisses, the rhythmic pressure of Jack's hand grabbing his arse, Jack's fingers smoothing and caressing the skin. All contact ceases suddenly and Ianto sways alarmingly, devoid of Jack's anchoring touch. Jack's desk drawer slides open, and a moment later Jacks' hand is back, a cool wet finger easing its way into Ianto's arse. A whimper escapes before Ianto can swallow it back, and Jack's other hand, warm and steady, lands on the small of Ianto's back.

"Easy," Jack says. "Don't you want your present?"

Ianto nods, gritting his teeth before he begs. It's so much better to make Jack work for it.

Large hands bracket Ianto's hips, and Jack steers him over to the desk, pushes down on his back until Ianto is leaning over it, resting his cheek on its reassuringly steady surface. His hands grip the edge of the desk and he is ready for Jack, for the terrible, delightful assault on his senses Jack always brings about.

Jack is murmuring softly, petting Ianto's hip with one hand and easing a finger into Ianto's arse with the other. Jack worms his way in slowly, like he has all the time in the world, and when he brushes sweetly against Ianto's prostate Ianto moans. A kiss to his upper thigh, and another finger joins the first. In and out, a slow, steady fucking and Ianto can't help but respond, pushing back to meet Jack's hand, that hand and the desk the only solid things in his universe. The hands go away and Ianto really does whimper, lost without Jack's touch, until he hears the soft, wet slurp of Jack sucking on the dildo again, and Ianto is suspended, waiting. He hears the lube being uncapped again and pictures Jack's look of concentration as he coats the dildo, his steady gaze and small frown, wanting to get it right for Ianto. When he feels the blunt tip pressing at his entrance, Ianto relaxes and lets it in, lets Jack do what he wants. He doesn't tease Ianto with it, just eases it in until it's in place, the flared base flush against Ianto's cheeks. Jack kisses Ianto then, his thigh, his hip, the curve of his arse.

"Good," he says, patting Ianto's arse. He turns Ianto around to face him, pulls him down into Jack's lap. "That's very good, Ianto."

Ianto's reward is a kiss, two kisses, a dozen kisses strung together as Jack's hands grip his head, and Ianto grips Jack's in return. He's so hard and so is Jack, but there is kissing to do. When they break away to breathe, he presses his forehead to Jack's. He feels full, and when he squirms in Jack's lap he can feel it, there inside him, the unyielding intrusion of it, the reminder of Jack. Ianto grabs Jack's hand and presses it to his erection, thrusts into the fist Jack curls around him and it's so good, so good, just like it always is with Jack. He leans in for another kiss and Jack opens his mouth, lets Ianto delve in with his tongue, lets Ianto clutch his shoulders and pump into his fist and oh, Jack is—Jack is slowing down. Jack is _stopping_. Ianto shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, so close, _so close_ , why did Jack _stop?_

"Ianto." Jack's hands are cupping his face, but it takes a moment for the sound of his voice to penetrate the sex-fog Ianto is in. "Easy. Shhhh," Jack soothes, stroking Ianto's hair, kissing his forehead. "You can take this, can't you, Ianto?"

"How—" Ianto's voice is hoarse, and everything outside the sensations of his body feels far away and fuzzy. "How long?"

"Not longer than you can take," Jack promises. "I want you to be thinking about me today. I'll be thinking of you, wearing this," he touches the base of the plug, making Ianto shiver. "Just for me. Will you do that, Ianto?"

Ianto nods. He gets a chaste kiss for it, Jack's mouth soft on Ianto's lips.

"Good," Jack whispers. A kiss to Ianto's forehead, one over each closed eye, and he gently pushes Ianto away. "Get dressed."

So Ianto does.

No crises arise, fortunately—Jack's innovative little games may be one thing, but Ianto doesn't want to contemplate trying to save the universe while wearing a buttplug underneath his perfectly tailored suit. In fact, the day goes by with no rift activity at all that Tosh can detect. They spend the time catching up on paperwork and archiving low-priority materials.

Ianto moves through the day carefully, half hard. More than half convinced someone will see, will _know_. But no one seems to.

He catches Jack looking at him every so often. Jack's expression is perfectly nonchalant, but Ianto can feel his eyes burning right through Ianto's clothes, and he has to catch his breath. He can feel it, deep inside him, a constant reminder of Jack, as if he needed one.

Half a dozen times throughout the endless day Ianto is tempted to go to the men's room and take matters in hand. Jack would know, of course, but Ianto is certain he wouldn't mind. He'd smirk at Ianto a little bit, perhaps. Then he'd find some excuse to corner him somewhere private and nuzzle into Ianto's neck, smelling the subtle hint of sex, the slight change in Ianto's pheromones, undetectable to anyone but Jack.

But there is the matter of Ianto's pride, and Ianto intends to last this challenge out.

As the day progresses, Jack's gaze turns more and more admiring. It makes Ianto want to smile, but he hides it.

Handing out coffee during Tosh's presentation in the conference room, Ianto can feel Jack's eyes lingering on Ianto's arse. He does let a smile loose at that—a tiny one, and only for an instant, but. After that, Ianto finds little ways to brush up against Jack at carefully parceled-out random intervals. He touches Jack's broad hand when he refills his coffee, brushes his arm when brings him the expense reports, allows his hip a glancing contact with Jack's as they pass by the water tower. Jack is practically vibrating with tension by the end of the day. He can tell Jack loves knowing what's under Ianto's well pressed, expensive suit.

What Jack put there.

It's a battle now, seeing who can hold out the longest, Jack a victim of his own trap. Ianto grits his teeth as another hour drags by after Gwen and Owen have gone home, Tosh still tapping away at her computer.

Jack is up in his office, trying to distract himself with paperwork, no doubt, but Ianto knows he is coiled as a tiger waiting for his prey, as ready as Ianto to pounce the moment Tosh leaves. As unwilling as Ianto to tell her to go.

"Almost done, Tosh?" Ianto cleans ever-nearer to her workstation, pitching his voice to utter disinterest.

"Hmm?" Tosh asks, absorbed in her screenful of algorhythms. "Yes, just as soon as I… _oh!_ "

Ianto freezes, inwardly cursing his urge to usher her out before she's ready. He'd been so close to making it through the entire day undiscovered…

"Oh, I _am_ good!" Tosh gestures triumphantly at her screen, beaming at Ianto, and he doesn't have the heart to say anything further.

He flees to the archives to bury himself in work, sparing a longing glance at the men's room on the way. He isn't sure how long he's working, but suddenly he looks up, and Jack is lounging in the doorway, smiling at him. Ianto is instantly fully hard, his body leaning toward Jack at an angle, eager for that long-awaited touch.

"Coast is clear." Jack's tone turns warm and intimate. "How are you doing, Ianto?"

Ianto turns away from his work, putting his hands on his hips. He is not unaware of the gesture's effect on Jack, Ianto's hands drawing aside his jacket, framing his crotch. Letting Jack see the hardness under fine wool. He opens his mouth to speak, finds his throat oddly dry. "I think it's safe to say I've run the gamut of emotions today, Sir."

Jack raises his eyebrows. "Have you, now?"

"Had a hell of a time concentrating."

"Oh, really? What were you thinking about?"

Ianto rolls his eyes. "Your, ah, apparel, mostly."

"I love it when you talk dirty," Jack says, walking over to put his hands on Ianto's hips. He leans in, nuzzles into Ianto's neck. "You smell fantastic. I could smell you all day."

"But I didn't—"

"You were thinking about it." Jack breathes deeply, then drops to his knees. He rubs his face against Ianto's trousers, smiling. "Beautiful Ianto. Let me see."

Ianto undoes his belt with shaking fingers, lowers his zipper and lets Jack tug down his trousers and underwear, baring his hot skin to Jack's eager gaze. Jack takes him into his warm mouth, suckling him lovingly, eyes closed, a look of blissful peace on his face. Ianto strokes Jack's hair, unable to look away.

When Jack pulls away, Ianto can't help a despairing little whimper. It's been so long.

Jack rises to his feet and pulls Ianto in for a kiss. "You were amazing today. So good, Ianto, so good for me." He delves into Ianto's mouth and Ianto opens for him, helpless to deny Jack anything he wants. Today was ample proof of that. He clutches Jack's biceps and pulls him closer, moaning into his mouth. Jack turns Ianto and they stumble back against the wall, Ianto pinned by Jack's body, erection spit-wet and trousers down around his knees. Jack's hand worms its way between the wall and Ianto's body to cup his arse, squeezing suggestively. Ianto nods blindly, eyes closed, drowning in sensation as he devours Jack's mouth. He presses back against that questing hand, then forward into the hollow of Jack's hip.

"Turn around for me, Ianto," Jack coaxes, and Ianto does, turns to face the wall, resting his heated cheek against its cool surface.

Jack envelopes him in a tight hug, nosing at the nape of Ianto's neck. His hands drift down Ianto's sides and back around his waist, pressing Ianto's arse back against Jack's erection. The plug is jostled inside him, and Ianto chokes out a cry. "Jack, _please_."

Hands back on Ianto's hips, and he is pulled away from the wall, protesting, and turned towards the large, sturdy work table they use to classify artifacts. Ianto bends over it gratefully, head pillowed on his forearms. Jack pushes Ianto's trousers and underwear down, coaxing Ianto to step out of them, then presses down on Ianto's back, holding him steady with his body as one hand explores the curve of Ianto's arse. Jack fingers the base of the plug and Ianto presses hungrily into his warm, familiar hand. Jack toys with the plug, pushing and pulling at it, rotating it inside Ianto until Ianto is squirming on the table, empty hands reaching out to grab hold of something, anything solid, anything to anchor him besides Jack's broad body, his clever hands, his warm mouth. Jack steps away, and Ianto can hear the welcome sounds of Jack undressing enough to free his cock, the familiar noise of one of Jack's ever-present sachets of lube being opened, Jack's cock being deliciously slicked. Then Jack's hands are back on Ianto's body, curving around his thighs, thumbs sweeping up to tease at Ianto's arse, and finally, _finally_ Jack removes the plug. Ianto barely has time to gasp before Jack has replaced it with his cock. A long groan escapes Ianto at the feel of it, Jack pressing into him, long and thick and perfect, and he gives in to the rhythm of Jack's fuck, the harsh cadence of it. He pushes back, his body wanting more of Jack, more of everything Jack will give him.

The fuck builds to a high, sweet intensity, and Ianto loves every inch of Jack's cock thrusting in and out of his body. He doesn't want it to end, but he's been waiting for so long, hard for so long, had Jack's fingerprints and the imprint of his mouth on the toy hidden inside him for far too long. Ianto clenches his muscles around Jack and is rewarded by a choked cry as Jack comes inside him. Jack slumps over Ianto's body, mouthing desperately at Ianto's neck over the collar of his crumpled jacket, hands pulling Ianto's hips back, reaching around to grip Ianto's straining cock. It doesn't take much, and Jack is still inside him when Ianto comes into Jack's fist, loud and shaking with it.

They lie back down against the table, Jack's body draped over Ianto's, a warm, safe refuge. Jack kisses Ianto's hair and sighs contentedly. "You are amazing, Ianto Jones."

Ianto smiles, safe now that Jack can't see it, though he imagines Jack can probably hear it. "You're not so bad yourself."

Another kiss. "Think you might want to play this game again sometime?"

"I could be persuaded," Ianto agrees readily. "Although I'd rather like to see how long _you_ could hold out if I put something like that inside you."

Jack laughs. "Play your cards right, you just might find out."


End file.
